


The King at the Wall

by Archaeologyfiend



Series: A Dragon in Wolf's Clothing [5]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dark Daenerys, Dragons, Fire Dragons, Jon Snow is Not Called Aegon, Jon has a dragon, Kinda, No direwolves die, R Plus L Equals J, Robb Lives, ice dragons, it'll make sense later, it's offscreen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-13 14:11:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18033224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archaeologyfiend/pseuds/Archaeologyfiend
Summary: Robb arrives at the Wall to find two dragons, a Blackfyre, his brother and some ghosts of the past.





	The King at the Wall

**Author's Note:**

> So, one of these days I will get around to finishing and bridging the gap between these last two entries and the three prior. However, that has been put off because my dissertation is due next week and I honestly do not have space on my computer anymore for this fic (it's ancient and has already caused me stress by attempting to delete my dissertation. Twice.) so I'm freeing up space. But, I have one in the works already so hopefully there won't be too much of a wait.
> 
> Also, side note, I take the majority of my inspiration (and canon that I haven't changed) from the books not the show. Just a warning for those who haven't read them! 
> 
> Please enjoy!

Robb had never been to the Wall and he had never realised how truly cold it was. Even at this distance, the ice of the Wall lowered the temperature of the surrounding air and it felt as if the breath in his lungs was freezing. He was aware that the maesters at the Citadel had declared it Winter, meaning that it was even colder than it had originally been all those years ago when Jon had joined the Night’s Watch, but it was only now that Robb could appreciate how his brother had been living.

Well, partially.

His internment at the Twins had decreased his natural resistance to the cold, so he pulled the thick fur-lined cloak closer around his shoulders, glancing to his left to see how Ser Barristan was holding up. Riding northwards with the legendary knight was something of a strange experience, not to mention the other company he was in. The Dothraki that were left were shivering still and it wasn’t too far past the Neck that, after losing the initial first few to the cold, it hadn’t been too hard to cajole them into thicker furs, gloves and cloaks over their skins. That hadn’t stopped more from dropping, so that the hundred Dothraki and fifty Unsullied that Daenerys had sent with him to treat with the King at the Wall were now down to sixty Dothraki and forty Unsullied. Robb internally shook his head, wishing that the Dragon Queen were not so stubborn and had actually _listened_ to him.

There was a high-pitched shriek from above him and the white and gold dragon that had been tracking them since Last Hearth cast a shadow over them. Robb still didn’t know the identity of the rider on top of the dragon Daenerys had named Viserion.

“The Queen will not be happy that Stannis had stolen her child,” Barristan said solemnly. Unlike the Essosi natives, Barristan Selmy had adapted far better to the frigid north, perhaps because he was a Westerosi native. Robb turned a critical eye over the crumbling form of Castle Black ahead, silently horrified that _this_ was where his brother had ended up. _Jon… please, still be alive_.

“I’d be more worried about where everyone is,” Robb said, urging his horse forwards, watching as Viserion circled the fort once, twice and then lowering to a space right up next to the Wall. A few moment later, the dragon was once more in the air, sans a rider. Viserion shrieked once again, and then flew south, most likely off to hunt. The woods here had been devoid of game for the past few days, a worrying notion. Robb vaguely remembered a note from the Lord Commander, something about the need for more men and supplies, rumours of dead things beyond the Wall. Laughable to his problems in the War of the Five Kings. Looking at Castle Black now as they approached at a brisk trot, not so much.

There was an encampment around the road as they marched onwards, wildings appearing from dilapidated tents, staring up at them suspiciously. Alarmingly, a huge mammoth with a creature that could only be a giant mounted on its back came into view around one turn of the road. Even Ser Barristan flinched back, eyes wide at the sight. They finally reached the gate of the Castle, oddly drawn up considering the camp of wildings outside their walls. In the yard, Robb could make out a strange assortment of men in black and wildings in fur rushing about, sparring, eating or shouting something or other. It was strangely… nostalgic, almost reminding him of Winterfell, if Winterfell was in a constant state of chaos. Waiting for them at the gate was a brother of the Night’s Watch, looking as if he wished to be anywhere but where he was. Stood next to him was a shorter figure in black armour, differentiated from the Night’s Watch by the white cloak over his shoulders. A helmet covered his face, but Robb felt sure that _this_ was the dragonrider they had seen on their journey here.

“Hello there!” Barristan called, urging his mount ahead. “We are-“

“Coming from the Dragon Queen,” the brother cut him off and Barristan blinked, mouth still open at the man’s glum interruption. “We heard.” Robb noticed his eyes dart to the side quickly towards his guest and then back to them. “Stannis isn't here, if you're looking for him. It would be while I’m in charge you’d arrive.” Robb blinked. This man was… charming. Apparently, his companion agreed as the armoured rider stepped forward, hands rising to remove his helm. Robb found himself face to face with a youth a little older than himself, pale skin coupled with familiar silver hair and blueish-purple eyes. For a moment, Robb thought that this was some long-lost cousin of Daenerys’ until he realised that the lines of the boy’s face were all wrong, a little too short, eyes not quiet purple, hair a little too blonde. His hair was long but had been braided back, to keep it out of the way and, presumably, to prevent it from tangling from the winds on the dragon’s back. From the lack of a flaming stag, he had no allegiance to the King at the Wall.

“Please forgive Edd,” the boy said, voice calm and clear, accent foreign to Westeros, bowing his head in deference towards Robb. “I’m told he can find anything to complain about.” The brother huffed but didn’t refute this claim. “Welcome to Castle Black.” He glanced up at Robb then, head cocked ever so slightly to the side. “You must be Robb Stark.” Robb blinked, carefully dismounting, surprised.

“I am,” he said carefully, eyeing the stranger. “And this is Ser Barristan Selmy, Lord Commander of the Queensguard. How did you know that?”

“Your brother described you well,” the knight said politely.

“Jon?” Robb asked, hope rising in his chest. “He’s here?” The knight pressed his lips together, glancing behind him towards where a knight in scratched armour and a bat helmet was sharpening a sword in the yard. The man shrugged and raised his eyes towards the sky and then across the yard to where a large and familiar fluffy white lump was snoozing. The boy turned back to Robb, mild exasperation on his face.

“He’ll be back soon,” was the only answer he got, and Robb frowned. Before he could question this boy further, Barristan stepped forwards, ready with his own questions.

“Do you happen to know what the wildings are doing this side of the Wall?” he asked, eyes sharp. “The Queen will also need to know your name and your allegiance.” Clearly, the old knight had worked out that this foreigner didn't work for Stannis as well. His eyes were narrowed and the boy visibly swallowed. Robb thought he also went pale.

“Lord Snow let them through,” Edd, the baleful Night’s Watchman interjected, as the man from the yard stood, approaching them. Barristan, who appeared not to have seen him yet, turned towards him, eyebrows raised. Edd shrugged. “Unlike your southron Kings and Queens, he was the only one concerned with the wights and Others beyond the Wall. So long as they fight for him and man the other castles, the Night’s Watch will take all the help they can get. Even I’d rather the wildings than being a wight.” He looked as if he wanted to add something else but resisted, most likely something deprecating about himself. Others in the castle had noticed their arrival and mutterings were starting to circle the yard. No doubt, soon the entire castle would know they were here. Robb also noted that he never referred to Jon as a brother- merely ‘Lord Snow’, whatever in the seven hells that meant.

“Others? Wights? Are you fighting folk tales up here now?” Barristan asked, frowning and glaring at the young knight, irritation clear.

“You might try looking from the top of the Wall,” the older knight intoned. Robb was surprised to find that the three headed dragon was enamelled into the knight’s breastplate. In fact, the silver haired boy also had a three-headed dragon on his armour, half-hidden by it's dark tint. Barristan barely glanced his way, focused on the dragonrider.

“You still haven’t told me your name,” the old knight insisted, eyes narrowed. Robb wondered what he saw in the boy’s face that made him so aggressive- so far, he had been reasonable and was of a similar age to him. Robb almost felt bad for him. Then again, not long ago, he too had been in a similar situation. Except, Barristan had spoken out for him and his father. _Jon, where are you?_ Robb wondered silently, glancing between the two strangers and the knight. Behind him, their entourage were shifting uncomfortably.

“I’ll get your guards some food and warmer furs,” Edd said, shifting uncomfortably, picking up on the tension. “Bastards look like they’re about to freeze in place.” Robb had to agree with him there. They were soon gone: Barristan didn’t even seem to have noticed.

“Selmy,” the older knight intoned, one hand settling on his young companion’s shoulder. Barristan did finally look up then and froze, face set somewhere between shock and suspicion. Robb wondered if he knew this knight. “Aegon is already pledged to… Lord Snow.” Robb frowned, wondering at the slight pause before the mention of his brother.

“Where is he?” Robb asked, filing away the other boy’s name. _Aegon huh? So, he must be from a Valyrian house_. “My brother?” It had been so long… The fluffy white lump was suddenly at his side, hot breath snuffling around his face before Ghost gave him a slobbery lick, a silent pleased huff leaving him. Robb wrinkled his nose but obliged and gave the direwolf a scratch behind the ears. Grey Wind would be this big, if he had lived. Robb swallowed that thought back, staring down the two knights.

“He’ll be back soon,” the knight of the bat said firmly. Barristan let out a loud breath, unfreezing.

“Whent?” he breathed. “But you’re…”

“Rumours of our deaths were greatly exaggerated,” Whent said, amusement sparking in his eyes. “Apparently, no one bothered to ask Stark whether Arthur was actually dead when he handed Dawn back.” Aegon briefly frowned but glanced upwards instead of saying anything. Robb wondered if he were wishing he was back on Viserion. Something was tugging at the back of his brain, a nagging feeling that this was important, but he was distracted by a far-off screech. “Ah, I believe that would be your brother,” Whent said, having heard it too. Robb blinked.

“What?” he asked but he received no answer. Barristan was still staring at the knight, a man he had thought dead, and now he could hear the familiar heavy _thwump_ of beating wings. _What? Seven hells, what are they waiting for?_ The answer to that became crystal clear a moment later as a shadow, larger than Viserion, swooped over them, coming to land right on the Wall’s edge itself, the dragon giving another ear-blasting shriek as men ducked away from loose chunks of ice.

This dragon was not like those he had seen under Daenerys. Unlike the sleek, two-legged behemoths that his wife called her children, this dragon had four limbs, seemingly slightly ungainly as it clung to the Wall. It was graceful certainly, but there was a slight gangliness to it that gave Robb the impression that it was somehow _younger_ than Viserion and was a bright icy blue. The tough leathery skin was smooth, unscaled, making it seem like it was carved from the same ice as the Wall. No steam rose from its mouth, but ice crystals seemed to form in the air around it and several wildings shouted curses up at the small figure clinging to its back, somehow completely unaffected by the arrival of this beast. As this figure dismounted, Robb became aware that his mouth was hanging open, a fact that a burly ginger wilding felt like pointing out with a laugh.

“Ah, you get used to ‘er lad. Prince Crow’s only got ‘er freezing Others!” the man said, with a firm slap to Robb’s back. Before he could reply to that, there was a single horn blast and suddenly, black brothers were swarming the gates, and soon the sound of clattering hooves rang from the tunnel leading to the other side of the Wall.

“What-“

“Rider’s returning,” Edd, the glum Night’s Watchman said, having returned from… somewhere. “One blast for Rider’s, two for Free Folk and three for wights or Others. Not that we needed it with Winter trying to bring the Wall down on our heads.”

“Not deliberately,” said a familiar voice and Robb’s breath caught in his throat as he turned towards the approaching figure in dark armour and furs. Dark curls, fine features- he had filled out some, lean muscle clear even through all the layers and his eyes had almost lightened to a strange purplish sheen in the light cast off the Wall- but it was…

“Jon,” Robb breathed, drinking in every last feature of his brother. He remembered dark days in the dungeons of the Twins, thinking how he would never see him again and then many other nights spent lying awake as Daenerys slept next to him, wondering how she would deal death to his family if he got even a single thing wrong. But here, now, those worries were swept away as he stared at this man, confident in his own right and at ease with this strange chaos around them, staring back, just as enraptured. A grin suddenly spread across his brothers face as he took a step towards him.

“Robb… I heard that you were dead.” Jon’s voice was tight, emotion locked away somewhere as people melted around them. Barristan was silent, still processing whatever significance his friend’s life was, watching them both with wide eyes. Robb gave an attempt at a smile and joke.

“Greatly exaggerated rumours.” He didn’t quite keep the shake out of his voice but at that moment, neither cared as they both stepped towards each other, Jon pulling him into a fierce embrace. Faintly, Robb could hear the approach of the riders from the other side of the Wall, but right now he was concerned only with the fate of his brother and where he had been. “Gods, Jon,” he breathed as they pulled apart, eyeing him up and down once again, taking in the familiar and yet alien visage of him once more. “What in the seven hells have you been up to?!” Jon let out a short laugh at that, but before he could answer, they were approached by a man dressed in a similar assortment of armour and furs, the three-headed dragon also emblazoned upon his breast plate. He gave Robb a short nod of respect before turning to Jon, but in his hands was…

“Hello, brother,” Bran said, smile soft on his face. He, too, had grown, hair in disarray and dressed in furs like a wilding but Robb couldn’t stop staring. _Ghosts_ he found himself thinking, _I’m seeing ghosts_.

“Bran!” came a small shout and Robb had to hold Jon’s shoulder as a small form barrelled past, straight towards his other brother. “Bran!” A torrent of… something left Rickon’s mouth and Bran hesitantly answered in kind. Robb was glad to see he was not the only one confused- Aegon also looked lost in the conversation, although seemingly not surprised.

“Jon…”

“I think it would be easier to explain inside,” his brother said quietly. “Where it’s warm.” Robb nodded and their small group, including three direwolves (Shaggy and Summer having appeared from wherever they had been hiding), the ginger-haired wilding Jon introduced as Tormund, three knights and Aegon. The Valyrian boy hung back from them, wary, until Jon beckoned him forwards, asking him something in what sounded like High Valyrian- Aegon replied what sounded like a correction and Jon laughed. A flash of jealousy crept into Robb’s heart then: once upon a time it had only been _him_ (and possibly Arya) who had been able to coax such laughs from Jon.

The rooms they were brought into appeared to be what had once been the Lord Commander’s solar- traces of the Mormont House still lingered in the bear motifs carved in one of the chairs, the single only marker of the life once lived by Jeor Mormont. Part of Robb wondered what the man would have thought of his son now- one of Daenerys’ closest warriors and soon to be named Warden of the North. Apparently as her husband, Robb was no longer entitled to his family’s historical claim and that it was a punishment for his father’s crimes against her family. Robb refrained from pointing out that the North would never accept such a change so soon after the upheaval caused by the Boltons and Karstarks. The direwolves stayed within a separate room, being now too big to all fit along with the seven other people in the room along with Robb- Bran was placed with them and Rickon decided to stay with him. From the screech outside, the dragon was also close by. A boy dressed in black arrived soon after, setting out hot spiced wine and a small array of food. Jon thanked him, naming him Satin.

“So, I believe introductions are in order,” his brother said, wine cup in hand, taking a careful sip. It struck Robb then that his brother acted less like the bastard boy he remembered, but more a leader, Commander… a king. The two knights had settled behind him, Aegon to one side, all still armed to the teeth and in full armour. The wilding that had joined them also lingered close by while Edd sat close to the fire, warming up and appearing as glum as ever. If Robb had any allies in the room should things go sour, he was alone with only Ser Barristan, who looked as if he had seen a ghost or two.

“This is Ser Barristan Selmy,” Robb said, feeling oddly off-kilter at being at odds with Jon somehow. “Ser Barristan, this is my brother, Jon Snow.” The wilding scoffed in the corner as Ser Barristan blinked, looking closely at his brother. There was a moment of silence and then-

“You look like your father,” Ser Barristan said quietly. “I am deeply sorry for what happened to Lord Stark.” The words were similar to what he had once said to Robb.

“Which one?” the knight Barristan had named Whent asked, one eyebrow raised, earning himself a not-so-subtle shove from his friend. Robb blinked, as did Ser Barristan. _What?_ Jon gave a soft cough, something like irritation crossing his face before it was gone.

“My apologies for Ser Oswell. I’m told he doesn’t know when to shut his mouth.” Tormund scoffed again, looking like he was enjoying himself. “Robb, this is Ser Oswell Whent, Ser Arthur Dayne and Aegon Blackfyre.” It felt as if the air had been sucked out of the room as Jon introduced the Valyrian boy, who shifted uncomfortably as all eyes turned towards him. There was a brief moment before Selmy jumped to his feet, hand going for the sword at his hip. Robb was still trying to process the fact that he was standing in a room with two dead men and the last of the Blackfyre line as both stepped forward, hands going for their own swords. Jon watched carefully as Aegon stepped backwards, behind his brother.

“Out of my way Arthur,” Ser Barristan growled, eyes narrowed and focused on Aegon. “I will not allow this boy to destroy Daenerys as his family has tried to do for centuries.”

“And we will not allow you to draw a weapon against a sworn shield of our prince,” Ser Arthur Dayne, _the_ Arthur Dayne, Sword of the Morning, stated calmly, unfazed by Barristan’s proclamation. A soft hand on Robb’s shoulder made him jump, turning away from the conflict to find Jon, who had somehow made it around the fighters without him noticing, beckoning him to follow, Aegon a pale shadow behind him. Jon slipped into the next room with the direwolves, Bran and Rickon (who was now asleep by the fire, leaning against a snoozing Shaggydog), pulling Robb with him. Robb, still confused and unable to fight back from shock, allowed his brother to lead him to a seat next to Bran and shove a cup of wine into his hand.

“Drink,” Jon said. Robb stared and, after another prompting from his brother, took a long draught from the cup, steadying his nerves.

“What… what just happened?” Robb asked quietly, still in shock. “I thought… Father…”

“Lied about a lot of things,” Jon said gravely, eyes sad and Robb flinched. Bran didn’t look surprised or moved. In fact, Robb would have thought him asleep, except his eyes were open, staring unseeing ahead of him over towards where a girl Robb had never noticed before was curled up asleep next to Summer. “And thanks to Ser Barristan, we have plenty of time to talk.”

“You’re really…?” Robb couldn’t quite string sentences together, but he was trying. He wished Grey Wind were here, or that he was better at diplomacy. His run as King in the North had been short, his attempts at keeping people together dismal at best when things got tough and he got the feeling that he had listened one too many times to his mother, or perhaps not listened to her enough. He couldn’t quite decide. And months spent in a cell had only damaged him further, leaving him confused but trying to rally as best he could, making the necessary sacrifice to spare his people when Daenerys threatened to burn all the north for his Father’s actions against her family… actions that may not actually be completely accurate, he realised. Aegon watched silently, stood by the doorway, still as a statue and Robb realised what really ought to have been obvious, that he was wearing a _white cloak._ Something that only Ser Barristan, Arthur Dayne and Oswell Whent had been wearing… He turned to Jon, to the man he thought of as his brother, assessing once again those changes that he had been observing, the purple hue of his eyes and rallied. “Tell me.”

And so, Jon did. The tale was extraordinary, something more akin to one of Old Nan’s tales than reality, truth that Robb could only attempt to wrap his head around. But it helped to put all the puzzle pieces in place. The dragon, Wintersong, who was younger than Drogon but approaching the same size due to the fact that ice dragons were naturally so much larger than their fiery counterparts, Viserion’s presence and bonding with Aegon despite him not being a Targaryen, why Jon was not a Brother of the Nights Watch but why he had stayed, the presence of the wildlings at the Wall. Tormund was most likely enjoying the display of ‘silly southern politics’ playing out in front of his eyes and had probably been laughing since the moment they arrived- what did a member of the Free Folk care for family names? When Jon was finished, Robb had drained his cup and poured himself another. There was no dealing with this sober. But…

“I’m not calling you Jaehaerys,” Robb said firmly, and Jon blinked. “You’re my brother. Always have been, no matter who your… parents were.” And wasn’t _that_ a strange thought? Jon almost deflated in relief and Robb realised that part of the tension in his brother’s shoulders had been a fear of rejection.

“Thank you,” Jon breathed, clearly relieved. Robb turned his attention to Aegon, to the boy trying to make amends against his family’s name. It occurred to him that he was doing something similar to Daenerys- however, unlike his wife, Aegon was attempting peace rather than war. He wasn’t demanding to be respected, but rather trying to prove himself, much the same way Jon had done as a child. And, it was an honourable route, that Robb could admire the other boy for taking.

“You’ll look after him?” Robb asked him. Aegon looked startled at having been addressed before nodding, face determined.

“With my life.” Robb nodded, taking a long draught from his cup. By now the sounds of fighting had stopped, but he could still faintly hear Barristan arguing something or other with Jon's Kingsguards. Ones he had had since birth, whether they had been around in person or not.

“Then I suppose I ought to rescue Ser Barristan, before he makes _more_ of an ass out of himself,” Robb said dryly, and Jon barked out a laugh. Even Aegon cracked a startled smile. It felt good to be in his brother’s presence again, no matter what they’re supposed relation might be now.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a couple of notes here. I played about with the idea of Robb being alive in this series for a long time, even way back when I was writing the first of these four years ago, when it wasn't even intended to be a series. Eventually, I decided that it made more sense for where I want to go with this. Logically if Daenerys took control of the south and found Robb, the easiest way to gain the North is to marry into it and she may have something of a soft spot for someone who has clearly suffered as much as Robb. It would also be a very easy way to control the Starks- a family oriented structure and a man who would do anything to keep the rest of them alive after having (supposedly) lost his younger brothers, sister and another sister sold off to the Lannisters- and therefore an easy way to control the North. And with Jorah filling her head with resentment against the Starks, I wouldn't put it past her to manipulate him like that. Look at it whichever you will.
> 
> I can hear the shouts against Jorah from here. Unlike in the show, book Jorah has not had the chance to make up with Daenerys but the thing is, he holds a special place in her heart even in the books. It makes the most sense that he would be her first choice (had she not found out about his betrayal) as Warden of the North (she doesn't really know how the Kingsguard works) and, since this is technically past the point of canon, I'm going with the most likely occurrence that they've since made up. Also note that Daenerys is painfully unaware of how Westeros politics work- to her the Starks are nothing more than the 'Usurper's Dogs' and even Barristan in the books has yet to disabuse her of this notion. She's also incredibly headstrong. It's unlikely that she'll listen to people telling her that now is a really bad idea to be changing who the Warden of the North is again. And that the Mormonts are very much not going to be supporting Jorah (man I wish Maege was around in the show. Imagine Lyanna Mormont but older and with a mace.). It may be evident from this that I am going on a darker take on Daenerys- I have an idea that she is very much going mad in the books with how ominous her last chapter ended, although the show seems to be shying away from that and only occasionally paying lip service to it. And if they ignore the Tarly issue (like some people are quite willing to argue for her burning poor innocent Dickon who was just following his father- and yes, Sam is actually very fond of his brother and talks about him a lot in the books) then I might actually rage quit the show entirely.
> 
> As for the dragons, I read somewhere that ice dragons in Westeros are bigger than the dragons from Valyria, or I might be wrong. What I do know, especially after reading Fire and Blood, is that Daenerys' dragons are most certainly not going to be flying over the Wall anytime soon since it is now (book) canon that they refuse to do so. However, I'm not sure ice dragons would be limited by such a thing, or even if they were, (spoiler for upcoming entry) Winter is born at the Wall so I theorise that the magic in the Wall would have even less effect on her because she will have acclimatised to it. It is also stated that dragons grow according to magic- and we know the Wall is just swimming in magic and would therefore most likely grow far more quickly than Daenerys with her constant movements across Essoss, would have witnessed in hers. Why give Viserion to Aegon? That will be explained, but suffice to say, Viserion needs more love, not least because Daenerys is incredibly unimaginative in her naming of things (seriously, Rhaego and Rhaegal? Rhaegar is not as virtuous as you think he is Daenerys) and that he seems to get the least amount of love from the community.
> 
> Ok, so that's all for now (no need to tell me a used a similar situation twice) and I hope you enjoy this instalment! As said, there are more in the works but don't expect them anytime soon. Uni work must unfortunately come first! We'll also get to where Stannis is later too.


End file.
